


God's Grounds for a Gambling Game

by Panda_Manda_szup



Series: It's Tough to Be a God [5]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: DreamSMP - Freeform, angst? angst, cameos from ponk and awesamdude, dream has big bro vibe check aura, give tommy a break 2k20, i take canon conversations then i add spice to it, no beta we die like tommy did to tubbo's trap twice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:16:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27583279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Panda_Manda_szup/pseuds/Panda_Manda_szup
Summary: “God does not play dice with the universe; He plays an ineffable game of His own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of any of the other players, to being involved in an obscure and complex variant of poker in a pitch-dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a Dealer who won't tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time.”― Terry Pratchett, Good Omens.The plot thickens as its climax approaches; the main players are revealed. Tommy confronts Dream to understand why he stands where he is. Dream answers, sort of.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: It's Tough to Be a God [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1963807
Comments: 2
Kudos: 138





	God's Grounds for a Gambling Game

**Author's Note:**

> My day be so fine, then boom, I rmb its supposed to be war day soon.

Harsh footsteps shake the platform of the wooden bridge as Tommy frantically dashes to his base, Dream temporarily allowing him to grab his necessities before the dawn of war preparations begin. The teen catches a smudge of lime green poking out from shifting purple armour, Dream’s lounged form lazily watching Tommy run to his base, like a lion watching deer prance onto an open field. He’s vaguely aware of Ponk running silently behind him, guarding his back.

This did little to sooth his nerves.

Tommy had thought he was over the feeling of being prey. He thought he was done being pinned by those sharp green eyes under a hollow black smile on porcelain white. He thought he became part of the pride when Dream and Techno helped him fight against Sapnap at the Battle of the Lake. 

Guess he thought wrong.

‘I just don’t understand.’ Tommy mutters under his breath, panting slightly as he crosses the cold iron floors of his base, turning his body so he can see Dream walk towards him, one eye on the smiley face mask casually placed inside a hood of green. 

‘Why would you team with Schlatt?’ the boy asks, and Tommy inwardly grimaces at his tone. Dream had slowed down his pace a bit, and by the looks of it, Tommy knew that the man had caught it too. The note of betrayal. The hint of sadness. The resignation at the fact that it was almost normal to Tommy now.

Tommy rummaged through his ender chest and sighed in relief. Outside, Dream leaned against the cool walls of his base. 

‘Tommy, I’m a businessman. You know what that’s like.’

The sound of a chest lid slamming shut drew Dream’s attention. He turned to face Tommy, the boy’s face scrunched up in a frown. 

‘No, I don’t.’ Tommy replied. Dream snorted. He faced the boy full on, despite having the blonde’s back turned towards him.

‘Well you do. _Of course_ you do.’ Dream said. Somehow, Tommy didn’t believe him. How could he? If he did, he’d understand why Dream makes the choices he makes, flipping sides as casually as flipping a coin. Maybe then, Tommy could win. Maybe then, he could have reasoned with Wilbur. Maybe then, he could have stopped Technoblade.

Maybe, maybe, maybe... 

Footsteps shuffled, and Tommy turns around just in time to see Ponk knock an arrow and level his bow at Dream, who stands at the threshold of his base with a snarky laugh, as if Ponk were intimidating enoguh to bar his entry. Tommy sideyes the man, who silently backs up, the tip of his arrow never leaving Dream’s mask.

Realistically, both of them knew Dream could kill them where they stood, the glint of a Netherite axe on his back casting shadows of the wings of a damned angel. Tommy growled in annoyance as Dream purposefully nudged a bit of dirt onto his entrance with the tip of his combat boots.

Dream lifts both his hands up, fingerless gloves hoisted in the air. ‘I’m not here to fight’ he says casually, and Ponk throws Tommy a look, a silent question of trust.

Trust, huh.

Signalling for Ponk to lower his bow, Tommy finally looks at Dream. The man sways back and forth, rocking on his heels and he stuffs his hands back into his jean pockets. There’s a relaxed slouch to his stand, but both Ponk and Tommy know better than to take it at surface level. No, Tommy could talk shit about whatever he wanted in regards to Dream, but he of all people knew. There was a storm of power, a rumbling sea of something  ~~ almost ~~ unworldly crackling and shifting underneath that soft, worn hoodie. A thundering cloud that could strike and burn whatever, whenever, wherever it wanted. 

Dream was just a man in a lime green hoodie with a smiling mask, wearing a chestplate and helmet. 

Tommy knew better. Everyone did.

Finally, the silent balancing act toppled. Tommy screwed his eyes shut and fought back whatever wave of frustration he wanted to release. Instead, all that came out was an exhausted question.

‘Why would you not team with us?'

Dream titled his head sideways, black eye holes boring into Tommy’s soul. He looked like a cat observing a funny little bird, watching, waiting. Tommy didn’t realise he was clenching his fist.

A sharp laugh bounced off the walls of the base, and Ponk jumped. Dream lazily threw open his arms as if he were the master of ceremony of a grand event. ‘ _ Tommy, _ ’ he exclaimed exuberantly, announcing the boy’s name in fondness and amusement, presenting him like he was the main attraction of this shitshow.

Tommy swallowed to sooth his dry throat. Dream then said the words that Tommy wished he didn’t expect.

‘I’ve never been on your team. I’ve never been on  _ anyone’s  _ team.’

_ Fuck. _

Tommy hit the back of his head against one of his chest, and rubbed his eyes. He used whatever strength he had left to keep standing upright. God, Tommy was just tired. He was just so  _ fucking tired.  _ He needed a break, and instead, he’s gifted another war. Same story, same faces. History be damned to repeat itself.

_ ‘I would say that my interest is in myself, and I have been given something that is far more powerful to me than friendship.’ Dream said, and the lightness in his tone is what irked Tommy on. That a man could just disregard every relationship and personal connection made with him in the blink of an eye, all for the sake of power and control, just for an upper hand in battle, for an extra move to play.  _

_ Fundy and Quackity stood around the communicator, face blanching when Dream’s voice crackled into reality. Tommy gripped the device, feeling it’s cool plastic edge become warm from the heat in his hand. Behind him, BadBoyHalo was silent, white eyes casted down on the button-plagued floors of Pogtopia.  _

_ Quackity shakily laughed in disbelief, joking about not realising Schlatt could read. Beside him, Fundy was pale, mouth pressed into a thin fine line at the implications of his fiance’s sudden switch of sides. _

_ Tommy glanced upwards. Wilbur was staring at a wall of buttons, eyes empty, body swaying slightly, arms hung at his side. He chuckled, and commented about how he was having the time of his life. The ex-president made eye contact with his right hand man, there and then. Tommy could barely recognise him. Who is he? What happened? _

Tommy was just so tired of not knowing why.

‘Why.  _ WHY? WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN?’  _ he screamed, slamming his fist against the wall of chests. Items rattled inside, and Tommy felt wood creak under pressure as he slammed his fist again, and again, and again, pounding against the unmoving box, voice hoarse and dry. His legs finally gave way, and the boy slid downward, dragging his raw hands down with him. Distantly, Tommy heard Awesamdude enter his base, the distinct smell of potion brewing and green creeper mask kneeling beside Ponk as he hesitantly reached out, placing a hand on the boy’s heaving shoulders. It felt too warm. Too hot.

‘Fuck off.  _ FUCK. OFF. EVERYONE GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! _ Get--just get- just get out.  _ Please _ .’ Tommy shouted, throwing his voice out and jerking away from the touch. He growled and unsheathed his sword, swinging it lowly to clear some space. Ponk and Awesamdude scrambled away, causing clinks of potion bottles and oils flask haphazardly knocking into each other as they were strewn on the floor. Tommy watched as the 2 of them rushed out, glancing back in uncertainty. Tommy only raised his sword higher, a feral snarl threatening to rip open from his chest

Of course, Dream, being the prick that he was, merely stepped aside to allow the 2 men to flee. He shrugged at Tommy’s acid glare.

‘I was never really  _ in  _ your house. So. Can’t really get out of it, y’know.’ he replied cheekily.

Tommy stepped forward and brought his sword down, stopping right in front of Dream’s chestplate. The masked man didn’t react at all, only sighing softly in his mask. Tommy hated that. 

‘Why do you have to be like this? Acting all high and mighty as if you were some  _ big man _ . Why can’t-why-- _ urgh _ !!’ Tommy yelled, throwing his sword down in a fit and tugging at his hair. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will it all away, and gasped when he felt something cold and wet trickle down his nose bridge.

He blinked, and teardrops splattered on the toes of his boots. He blinked some more, and small puddles of liquid pooled on his floor.

Tommy inhaled shakily and rubbed his eyes with the ends of his sleeves. He grabbed the sword and thrust it at Dream, who had remained still throughout the entire thing. Something fragile was threatening to break in Tommy, but he pushed it back, forcing it to keep its cracking edges together as he pointed the blade’s tip at the white mask staring down at him. 

Dream placed 2 fingers on the flat edge of the sword, gently nudging it away from his face. The blade shook ever so slightly, Tommy gripping the handle with both hands this time, as Dream continued to lay his fingers on the weapon. The older man clicked his tongue. 

‘Did you know that there’s a common assumption made? That the world is merely god’s chess game.’ Dream spoke softly. He lowered his hands and placed them on the hilt of Tommy’s sword, pushing it downwards. Tommy was tired. He could not keep the weight up.

‘That’s wrong,  _ obviously _ . Gods aren’t chess players.’ Dream scoffed lightly. Tommy’s weapon was completely lowered now, defences battered and bruised for the day. He felt like laying down, just for a minute.

‘They’re gamblers, you see. They act as their own dealer, with their own decks and own rules.’ Dream finally said. Tommy blinked groggily, the sheer effort of keeping his head up to look at Dream almost unbearable now. He needed a moment. Just a moment.

‘Tommy, I’m about to play my cards. And I don’t know if you’ll like it when the chips are down.’

A distant shout shocked Tommy, and he saw Dream snap his head towards the direction of that sound. It sounded like Tubbo. 

Tommy shook his head and realised he had dropped his sword. He bent down to grab it, but froze in place as a fingerless gloved hand pressed against his right shoulder. Strangely enough, he merely sat down instead, not bothering to fight against the oppressing weight guiding him to the floor. Tommy felt his eyes close, the coolness of his iron floor lulling his body into a relaxed state. He heard footsteps leave him, the scent of oak trees and smoke, and something more ancient even, exit his base.

‘Get some sleep, Tommy, you may need it. I’ll see you soon.’

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wanted to write some high school brother vibe au. Then I wrote angst instead.  
> Also i have never played a single game of poker or chess in my life.


End file.
